


The Tadfield Ghost

by Hekate1308



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Halloween, Haunted Houses, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: It had seemed like a good idea, at first. After all, Adam and his friends had saved the world – God only knew what would have happened if it had all depended on him and his angel alone – and so, a thank you was in order.And it was Halloween, and Crowley had always been fond of spooky stuff, as opposed to Aziraphale, who nonetheless still liked the candy that was thrown around this time of year, so they agreed at least in parts; so why not take the children to a haunted house?There were some things they hadn’t considered, though.Maybe they shouldn’t have assumed that Adam would so readily let go off his powers, for one thing. He was still a boy who liked to have fun; should’ve really considered that.And that was how they had ended up in this predicament.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Tadfield Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

It had seemed like a good idea, at first. After all, Adam and his friends had saved the world – God only knew what would have happened if it had all depended on him and his angel alone – and so, a thank you was in order.

And it was Halloween, and Crowley had always been fond of spooky stuff, as opposed to Aziraphale, who nonetheless still liked the candy that was thrown around this time of year, so they agreed at least in parts. So why not take the children to a haunted house?

There were some things they hadn’t considered, though.

Maybe they shouldn’t have assumed that Adam would so readily let go off his powers, for one thing. He was still a boy who liked to have fun; should’ve really considered that.

And that was how they had ended up in this predicament.

“I really don’t understand” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands. “They should still be with us. I promised their parents…”

“This is a maze, angel” he said, sitting down on one of the plush chairs that had spontaneously spread in the house, now suddenly a mansion, alongside every single piece of furniture an eleven-year-old would imagine belonging into a haunted house. Nineteenth century, apparently – mirrors draped with veils, old uncomfortable sofas, a piano. “And I highly doubt we’ll get out of here before sunrise.”

“My powers don’t seem to be working –“

“Of course not. That would spoil the fun.”

“Fun?”

“It’s a haunted house” he looked around. “Well, mansion, now.”

“Yes, but it was just supposed to be pretend… for the children…”

“Yes but we should have considered that. What do eleven-year-old boys think of when they think haunted house?”

“I was so sure she was human now…”

“Me too, and that’s what got us into this mess in the first place.”

“But won’t their parents –“

“Ut’s Adam’s story. He obviously wants to have fund with his friends, so that’s what will happen.” He paused then added, “At least we aren’t in any danger. I don’t think so.”

“But the children –“

“Will be perfectly safe with Adam, angel. Best thing for us is to just wait it out.”

Unfortunately, they weren’t fated to do so.

It was a perfectly fine assumption that they could simply wait for sunrise – as a matter of fact, there was little else to do – for all about of five minutes.

And then the knocking started.

At first, it seemed to come from the ceiling, but they quickly established that it actually emanated from the walls.

“Knocking. Often the first sign of a haunting” Aziraphale said with the knowledge of someone who had devoured countless pieces of literature on the subject.

Crowley, who had a fondness for scary movies, nodded. “Means it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Oh I do so wish we could know where the children – “

That was when a gush pf wind blew a window open with a loud rattle, only for it to immediately close again.

“That was rather overdramatic” Aziraphale said.

“Well, you’re an angel and don’t like spooky things, so…”

“You jumped too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too”

“Did not –“

And then Aziraphale shut him up with a kiss, as he was wont to do ever since they had finally talked after the Apocalypse that wasn’t, and as usual, it worked inly too well since Crowley was always, always left speechless by the simple fact that they were together, that they _could_ be together.

He might not have needed to breathe, but had nonetheless got used to the sensations, so after he’d gotten his breath back he said, “So, it seems things are just going to get worse before they get better.” He did recall that in most haunted house movies, people got hurt, but he couldn’t believe that Adam would go that far. He liked them, at least Crowley thought so – he certainly was always glad to see them, and often bombarded them with questions about being a demon and/or angel that frankly, they didn’t always have the answers to, since sometimes, things just were what they were and there was no reason to go any deeper than that.

“Do you think any ghost will show up?”

Oh. Of course. He took Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed it. “I highly doubt they’d be tortured souls or anything o the sort” he said gently, knowing this was what he was worrying about. “More like a semblance of a ghost Adam came up with.”

“Well then” Aziraphale said, looking around the room, “I suppose we should… play along?”

“Play along?”

“It’s a haunted house, I am sure Adam would want us to walk around.”

Of course he would because that was what idiotic humans did in moves and stories. Crowley sighed but complied, and, still holding hands, they left the room.

* * *

“You would think that after the third time, you get used to it…”

“I was startled, angel” he insisted, pointing at the mirror, the veil on which had withdrawn itself; dark streaks of red blood were slowly but surely making their way down its surface. “Northing else.”

“If you say so, dear. But really – isn’t that a bit on the nose?”

“He’s eleven, not Edgar Allan Poe.”

Good old Edgar. A little gloomy, a little too prone to drink for a human, and that thing with his cousin had been a bit… odd to say the least, but he’d had style, Crowley would give him that.

They’d spent a rather interesting evening together in a run-down tavern; he’d gotten an autographed edition of Raven out of it and promptly gifted it to Aziraphale when he opened his shop. The angel had blushed a very pretty pink when he’d realized what it was.

Yes, that had been a nice evening.

This one – not so much. So far, they had managed to avoid getting stained, but he’d rather not have to miracle away blood from his clothes…

Something rattled around the corner. “What now, do the skeletons come?”

“I don’t think we’re that far yet” Aziraphale supplied “A big element of horror or gothic fiction is the gradual implementation of supernatural or at least unsettling facets of –“

“Yes, yes, I get it. It’s just… would’ve been easier if he was into action movies, that’s all.”

“You know children at that age, they read whatever they can get their fingers on” he sighed, undoubtedly recalling the afternoon last week when a boy had insisted on purchasing a book and he’d been too soft-hearted to turn him away.

“The children you know, because they come into yours hop –“

A hauling sound from outside.

“Wolves? In rural England?” Aziraphale asked. “I mean, in a way, I am glad, they shouldn’t go extinct, but this seems –“

“All par of the course.”

They’d rounded the corner, but of course there as nothing there; they hadn’t quite gotten that far yet.

“So what do you think –“

Somewhere ahead of them, glass broke.

“And” Crowley sighed, “We’ve reached the poltergeist.”

* * *

Naturally it wasn’t a real poltergeist, not anyone you could talk to – instead, they were forced to make their way through a room ( _of course_ there was no other possibility, nowhere to turn to. The second they had entered, the door has fallen shut behind them because all of this was not cliché enough already) where things were flying around.

And fine. Just throw stuff at Crowley. That, he was sued to – some people didn’t react well to temptations.

But he absolutely completely drew the line at things throwing other things at his angel.

Aziraphale took the whole experience rather well, dodging missiles remarkably quickly for someone who rather enjoyed sitting down for days on end with a book in his hand. “This does seem to be quite the exercise; I think humans would enjoy it –“

“I am sure they are, somewhere inside of this place.” Oh yes, he was ready to bet Adam and the others were having the times of their lives, he thought as he jumped to avoid a huge ugly vase; it flew against the wall and shattered. “Let’s go.”

* * *

In the end, the ghost was rather… underwhelming.

Or maybe that was the wrong word.

Thing was, Crowley had rather expected Adam to have gone all out – the chains, the howling, the trying to get through someone’s ribcage thing (and he had been prepared to act accordingly; he wouldn’t allow either of them to get discorporated now, not after everything they had been through).

He should probably have realized that Adam liked ghost, though. Of course he did; he was an eleven-year-old boy. Ghost were cool at that age, or at least so he assumed, never having been a human child himself.

And so, they walked in on the ghost – looking remarkably as described in the Canterville Ghost, as Aziraphale would tell him later – being busy –

“Are you painting a spot of blood there” he asked, blinking confusedly and staring at the spot near the fireplace where the ghost was busy.

Aziraphale giggled, obviously delighted. (again, he would later explain to him all of this fit rather well) “So glad to mee you!”

The ghost stood up straight and stared at them, letting go off the paint brush. Then, as if he’d suddenly remembered, he grabbed a chain he’d laid on the table and began to shake it “Boo?”

“How about try it with a but more conviction” Crowley suggested.

He let it sink and sighed. “I am trying my best here. It’s not easy, suddenly existing, you know.”

“Oh, so you didn’t exist until tonight?”

He shook his head. “I can’t say I enjoy it much.”

Crowley could have suggested a lot of things to rectify that, but the trouble was that those things would mostly not be available to a ghost. Dining at the Ritz with his angel, for example.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Aziraphale suggested, and the ghost was only too glad to comply.

* * *

“And, I mean, he I was, with this entire backstory of being the ghost of a lord who never truly existed who one night got killed by his wife and her lover – stabbed in the back, literally, would you believe that?” – and I remember all of it, only I also remember that all of that never actually happened, it’s all been rather confusing –“

Of course Aziraphale had taken it upon himself to listen to the ghost’s complaints; Crowley was satisfied enough just staying near his angel, making sure everything went well.

* * *

It was gone as quickly as it had begun. One moment, they were still talking to the ghost; in the next, they were sitting in the living room of the much smaller “haunted” house they had build tor the occasion, with Adam, Pepper, Wensleydale and Brian barging in, their faces alight with enthusiasm.

“Best Halloween ever!” Pepper exclaimed. “How did you manage to make the ghost so life-like?”

“A magician never reveals his tricks” Aziraphale told her while Crowley and Adam exchanged looks. He certainly didn’t look or feel very guilty, the demon decided, but then, nothing had happened, had it? Not from his point of view.

* * *

“But, Mr. Crowley, nothing bad could have happened, I made sure of that.”

“Fine. And no bringing ghost back for at least another year, do you hear?” Crowley demanded, hoping that by next Halloween, something else would have grabbed his attention, but desperately praying that Adam wouldn’t get into slasher films in the meantime.

He sighed dramatically as only eleven-year-olds could. “Alright. But it was fun!”

In a way, it really had been, but Crowley wasn’t about to admit that. Plus, he had better things to do; time for him and his angel to return home.

* * *

“I have to say” Aziraphale said, sitting down next to Crowley, sipping his tea, “I wouldn’t have minded keeping him around. He really was such a polite ghost –“

“Yes, well, angel” he interrupted him, lying down and making himself comfortable in his love’s lap, intent on a short nap, “You’ll just have to ask Adam next Halloween. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”


End file.
